


Not Yet

by lillullaby



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: A little bit of pining, Angst, Joe's birthdays aren't Andy's favorite, M/M, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillullaby/pseuds/lillullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But it’s just a crush, or whatever. It’s just Andy being stupid and Joe being gorgeous. He’s Andy’s best friend first, and always will be. Andy’s stupid, silly fantasies go on the back burner."</p><p> </p><p>A tale of crappy birthdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for going AWOL.

Sure, Andy’s noticed that Joe was attractive. He isn’t blind. 

He’s known Joe for a long time, and age has only enhanced how fucking gorgeous the guitarist is. His hair got longer, his features more pronounced. He gets better at the guitar, and fuck. That’s a sight to behold- and Andy has the best seat in the house. (If you’ve ever seen Joe play guitar, you’d understand. How he thrashes around on stage, all passion and clothes sticking to sweaty skin. Kinda like sex on legs.) 

 

So, maybe (just maybe) Andy would be jerking some nights after a show. He'd be close, and when he closes his eyes his mind would supply him with...images. Of Joe, looking up at him with heavily lidded eyes. Pupils blown wide- all from sex and adrenaline, from Andy. Andy putting that blissed out look on his face, not whatever drugs Joe had taken. His mouth open as he pants Andy’s name, perfect lips raw and red.

And maybe (just maybe) Andy came so hard his vision whited out, body curling in, and his mouth tasting of copper as he bit into his tongue to stay quiet. 

Andy tries to feel guilty about it. Honest. But, he just can’t manage to. 

But it’s just a crush, or whatever. It’s just Andy being stupid and Joe being gorgeous. He’s Andy’s best friend first, and always will be. Andy’s stupid, silly fantasies go on the back burner.  
Because Joe is perfect, except for one thing: he’s kind of stupid. (He’s a teenaged boy, he’s allowed) It’s endearing, except for when he drinks too much or takes shit he can’t identify and Andy has to muscle him into the car then into bed, helping him nurse the hangover in the morning.

 

*18

So, when Joe turns legal, Andy doesn’t even blink. Nothing has changed, and as he sits on a smelly old couch, watching drunk people fall over themselves in the name of Joe’s 18th birthday party- at no point does Andy think ‘now’s my chance’.

Because it isn’t. Andy’s not going to say there **never** will be (but he isn’t confident) but it certainly isn’t now. So he just sits, sipping on his water bottle, and chatting with the people he knows when they come by.

Which is when Joe promptly comes over and tries to fuck everything up.

He talks about how Andy watches out for him. In bars and at parties. Which, fuck. Andy didn’t think he was being subtle, exactly. But he’s still surprised when Joe mentions it.  
He waits for Joe to excuse him from it, to tell him to quit it. (Waits for the rejection) He waits for a dismissal that never comes

Because when Andy confirms it- because yeah, he does watch Joe. The alternative is to stay in the van and worry. 

He’ll continue to, too, be there when Joe needs him.

But Joe just smiles soso happily when Andy says as much. He looks so satisfied and lit up by the idea of being taken care of (which he hates, usually- Andy knows that) that every moment of heartache in the past 4 years becomes worth it. 

 

xx

 

Andy is really, **really** straight edge. He’s vegan and introverted and shy.  
So, theoretically, Joe is everything Andy should hate. He’s everything he’s not: he’s loud, and talkative and larger than life. He parties chronically and can drink his weight.  
They shouldn’t even be compatible, friend wise.  
But, then, why does Andy love him so goddamn much?

(Because Joe’s funny in all the right ways; he makes everyone comfortable, and his humor is kind. He doesn’t step on toes, but is still genuinely funny. He likes comic books and video games, and can watch Star Wars 50 times in a row and not get bored. Because he buys Andy coffee and makes funny faces at him to make him smile during those stupid photoshoots.  
Because, somehow, the fit together like puzzle pieces. Perfectly complementary- right next together through thick and thin to make a larger, better picture.  
because he’s perfect)

 

*19

Joe’s got this girlfriend and Andy thinks she might be the devil.  
(He stands behind the fact that it’s **her** and not his jealousy)

The two haven’t been together very long, but it’s been 8 months and Andy really, really hates her.

Joe life got hard, and he’s been down. Just little things that add up; fans gone sour, bitchy interviews, getting sick, Pete’s own depression.  
It makes Andy want to wrap him up in a million blankets and feed him fudge. 

It was Joe’s nineteenth birthday, and there was going to be a party. That night they had a hotel night, and Joe’s stupid girlfriend was coming to see the show. Andy just hopes she could help- that she will go out with him, and he'll have a good time, and it'll lift him up a little.  
He was just walking in to the dressing room tell Joe it was curtain call- and the two were fighting. Andy could see that immediately in Joe’s posture and the way his mouth was puckered. But, Andy walks in at the wrong (or right) moment- just in time to hear her say  
“Can’t you just be happy? I’m here, can’t you just be happy today.”

Andy sees red. That is so fucked up and Andy can feel the anger boil in him, getting ready to explode. Joe is staring at him with wide eyes, and he looks completely crushed. The only thing that stops Andy from losing his shit was the crew coming in to drag him and Joe out of the room to play.

Andy seethes the entire show, keeping a careful eye on Joe the entire time. They do their set, only to be dragged around for an interview and meet and greets and today is **so** not the day. 

Joe avoids him, and that’s what really hurts. (Well, he avoids everyone. But, that doesn’t make Andy worry any less.)

 

Andy doesn’t get to see him until 3AM, and by that point he had plenty of ill feelings stewing. That fucking asshole of a girlfriend better not be there, because she was in danger. Andy stomps to the hotel room, slamming his hand against the door.

For a second he wishes he hadn't. Joe answers the door in sweats, eyes rimmed red and his hair a mess.  
She put that look there. The anger comes right back, and stronger.

"Where is she?" Andy can't even recognize his own voice. It's all venom and sharp edges.  
"I dunno, out? I told her I wasn't feeling good." Joe deflated, he leaves the door open as he turns to go back inside.  
"I am going to ring her neck." Andy slams the door, his hands fisting, "What the fuck was she thinking? It’s your fucking birthday!"

"She's not so bad, Andy..." Joe's tone said he doesn't believe that much, either. 

"Not so bad? She basically told you to repress your feelings and pretend to be happy- what is that shit?"

"She didn't mean it like that..."

"Fuck, I don't care. Because, she said it. Worst of all she said it to **you**. "

"She was trying to help?" but it came out more as a question. 

"By, what? Being an asshole? Joe, you deserve so much more than that."

“I.. I’m not so sure I do. Deserve more than that.”

Andy just kind of gapes at him. Joe was low, sure. But he's been lower. He had watched Joe bawl and avoid the world and forget to eat. Joe has a shitty self image, but Andy knew that about him, already- because he knows Joe. If Joe was good at anything, it was pretending to be okay. But, it's hard to hear it out loud. (Like a verbal slap in the face.)

“No… Joe. No.”

Seriously, what? What was that? Andy waits for Joe to crack a joke, to take it back. But he doesn’t, just stands in the middle of this crappy little hotel room, examining the carpet like it's the most interesting thing in the world. Andy wants to scream and cry and punch walls. She did this- she put that defeated look on his face and broke his soul- and god, **Joe**. He looks up, eyes hopeless. Andy feels his heart melt a little, the anger ebbing away.

Andy takes a breath. Grow a pair, Hurley, Joe needs you.

“How can you not know how important you are? You deserve **everything** \- and more than that, you deserve someone who sees it.” Andy would love to give him it, everything he had, if he could. The entire world served on a platter right along with his heart. But he can’t say that, can’t put that on Joe. He swallows hard, pushing through, “You deserve someone who see’s you, who gets you. How you think and who you are and all the awesome ways you influence the world. How you reach out and love the people around you.”

Joe opens his mouth to refute it (Andy could see it in the way his eyebrows screw up.) So Andy reaches out, grabbing the younger man’s hand in his. 

“But not just on your good days, but when you’re down, too- fuck, you deserve someone who will take all your shit on their shoulders and still love you more for all of it.”

Let me hold it. Let me take the globe off your shoulders and let you breath. He wanted to say it, almost did. That's what's fucking scary, how out of control he is. Andy is a heavy thinker- he doesn’t blurt things out. This was word barf at best, out of control and messy.

“Jesus. She is so selfish. She had everything, man. She had you! Who the fuck does she think she is? “

Andy opens his eyes, not even sure when he had screwed them shut. He expects to see Joe, uncomfortable and confused. Instead, he only sees Joe’s eyes; soft and crinkly, the hint of the smile at the corners of his mouth. (It’s one of Andy’s favorites, right next to Joe with his head thrown back as he laughs.)

“I’m that awesome, huh?” He sounds careful, no part of his tone mocking.  
Andy had gone a little overboard, so he treads carefully.  
“Uhh, Yeah. Well.” Andy scratches at the back of his head awkwardly. “Yeah.”

Joe crowds into Andy’s space, "And where am I suppose to find this miracle person? Huh? Who knows me that well." 

Andy knows the answer for this one, easy. But it isn’t safe territory. The neon warning signs going off in Andy’s mind (And seriously, where were those earlier when he was coughing chunks of his heart all over Joe’s shoes.) Joe has a girlfriend- now is not the time. Not now. Andy turns to fiddle with something on the dresser. 

“Anyone who takes more than five minutes to really listen to you will see it, Joe.” Shrug, “It’s you. You’re like a beacon or something. The right person will see it, and be drawn to you. Everyone is.”

Joe stops, not saying anything. Andy can feel his blue eyes boring into the side of his head, he can’t bring himself to look back. Joe just waits for something Andy can’t say or even fathom. Not now. He’s vulnerable enough. 

He sees Joe nod in his peripheral vision. Just a small motion, before he walks out of the room, rubbing a hand down Andy’s back in thanks. 

Andy feels a little like an idiot, but in a good way.

(Joe breaks up with his girlfriend a week later. )

 

*20

It’s after the party when it happens.

Joe had come out early (or, well, earlier) and climbed into the van where Andy was hanging out, wasting time on his laptop. Andy can tell he’s not all there, see the glazed look on his face. But, by this time, it was normal. Joe was like this more often than not, these days. It was almost easier this way. Joe was cuddly when he got high, always latching on like an octopus to Andy when he got back toking up. So, Andy put down his laptop, adjusting for Joe to crawl up into space between him and the seat.  
Which isn't… exactly what happened. Joe climbs up, all pointy knees and uncoordinated limbs, just like normal. But then, instead of burrowing into Andy’s side, he lays directly on top of him, legs moving to frame Andy’s hips.  
Andy opens his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, when Joe promptly tried to shove his tongue down his throat.  
Joe's kissing him, and it's nothing like Andy had dreamed.  
Andy has never felt so displaced before. He knew (and accepted) a long time ago that he is going down a different path then he was meant for.  
He has given up a fucking lot for this band. He was supposed to be living in a commune, happy as a clam. He was supposed to be wearing a fucking natural homemade cotton shirt and hemp pants harvesting fucking soybeans.  
Instead, Joe's kissing him in the back of a van that smelled like McDonalds Cheeseburgers and boy sweat. A kiss that's wet and sloppy- not romantic at all. It tastes like tobacco and rum and it make Andy’s stomach curl.  
And for god’s sake, they're in the back of a fucking car in the middle of nowhere. This is about as far away from optimal as it can get. As far away from **Andy >/b> as you could get. **

 

He should be light years away from this car, from this moment. Yet, here he is.

At some point he pushes Joe off him, and makes himself clamber out of the car without watching Joe as he falls in a heap on the car floor. He needs to get out of there. He struggles to to get out the door- as soon as he hits fresh air he just runs. Runs until his lungs ache and he’s sweating and queasy.  
He runs until he can’t anymore. And when that comes, he falls onto some grassy lawn and tries to catch his breath and not cry . (He doesn’t do a very good job at either.)  
But, even when his heart hurts and he wants to crawl up in ball, he knows he wouldn’t change it. Even when he snotting all over himself in the middle of some suburban neighborhood, he knows he wouldn’t give it up.

He knew when he signed on with this band what he was giving up; but also knew drums would make him happier than all of that. Knew that this was his: his little family. And to, some degree, Joe is part of that. He was important to Andy, and he was worth it. Patrick and Pete are worth it. Fall Out Boy is worth it. 

It just doesn’t feel like it, right at that moment.

He drags himself onto his feet, practically limping back to where the busses are parked. 

The next morning, the bus stops at this little diner. They all pile into the booth, and Andy watches Joe out of the side of his eye as he nurses a cup of coffee and a hang over. Everything seems just fine. Andy thinks that maybe Joe is avoiding eye contact, but he is probably just making things up.

They’re okay. 

Andy shoves the memory in a box and pushes it deep into his subconscious.  
(Every once in a while, Joe will push their legs together, lining them up so their thighs to ankles will be pressed together as they sit next to each other on the couch. Andy always jumps up, a knee jerk reaction. He hates the look on Joe’s face when he does it.)

But, for the most part, everything goes back to normal. Because, underneath all it all, Joe is still his best friend.

There really isn’t anything Joe could do to hurt that.

 

*21

Joe turns 21 in a bus driving through a one lane highway going through a cornfield.  
They celebrate by drinking warm orange soda and playing Britney Spears at an ear bleeding volume while dancing crazy enough that their driver tells them to tone it down. 

In honor of the glorious occasion, they get a hotel with real beds that night- but that’s about it. They have to get up at the asscrack of dawn in order to get to the venue on time, so there isn't even time to go anywhere for a drink. But, it’s nice. It’s not like having a big party to celebrate Joe legally being able to drink would be that different from the past 7 years. 

Joe smiles a lot and, it may be Andy's imagination, sits extra close to Andy when they play Call of Duty. 

Andy and Joe are sharing a room, as is usual, and once they kick Pete out to his own room next door (Patrick helps, wrapping his arms around Pete’s thin waist and physically dragging him from the room with promises to sing to him if he’d just stop squirming.) Giving Joe and Andy the opportunity to do their hotel-night routine. Joe grabs a shower while Andy gets in his pajama pants and pacing around the room while he brushes his teeth. Joe comes out, wrapped in every towel that was in the bathroom, and stays like that for at least 20 minutes before getting into his sleep shirt and boxers.  
(That used to be really distracting. Andy would get turned on in the most uncomfortable way. He used to go for walks while Joe was in the shower, just to avoid it. But he got used to it.)  
The normalcy of it makes Andy smile in a content sort of way.

 

It isn’t even abnormal when Joe slides into Andy’s bed instead of his own, pulling the comforter over his head (Andy’s in a band full of tactile cuddle addicts. You get used to it pretty fast.)

But when Andy gets in, and Joe stays ram-rod straight on his side of the bed, that Andy realizes that this isn’t the average hotel night habits.

But he just waits- if Joe wants to talk, he will. If he doesn’t, then there is nothing Andy can do. So he just relaxes as best he can and tries to go to sleep. 

“One year ago I did something that was really unfair to you.” 

Andy almost jumps out of his skin, spooked by the break in the silence. The worst part is, Andy has no question what Joe’s talking about. His head flashes back to the street light streaming through the back of some crew member’s van, tobacco breath, and sore calves. Andy squeezes his eyes shut and waits. This could go anywhere, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for any of it.

Joe takes Andy’s silence as the admission that it is, and he can hear the guitarist take in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. You deserve so much more than that. From everyone, but most specifically me.” 

God, Joe was trying to kill him. Andy knew. He knew that Joe and him were dancing around each other, knew that one little slip and they would collide and spill all of their messy feelings. But, once again, now couldn’t be that moment.

(Andy wonders when it will be. If it ever will be.)

Andy nods in the dark, and shuffles a little closer to Joe. A little I understand, you’re forgiven. Joe relaxes.

 

**

It doesn’t happen on Joe’s birthday. It isn’t started by an awkward conversation, no one’s heart is broken. They aren’t sad or hurt or angry. 

Joe is 100% sober and he’s smiling the little smile that lights up his whole face, the one Andy loves soso much.

This isn’t an after party or a hotel night. They aren’t even on tour. The bus is gone, and Pete and Patrick are at the own houses.

They’re just hanging out in Joe’s practice space, and Joe is trying to pluck out the theme to the old Batman cartoon and Andy is lazily doing paradiddles because they make Joe mess up and giggle. 

But then the music stops and Andy looks up to see Joe just staring at him, a little thoughtful look on his face and Andy feels a little self conscious and turned on under the longer Joe's gaze is fixed on him.

“I love you. You know that, right?” 

Andy looks down at the head of his drum, ignoring the way his cheeks flamed up.

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

Joe’s guitar is back on its stand and suddenly Joe is right there, pulling him up.  
“No. I mean I **love** you.”  
Well, that was blunt. 

“I know you feel the same, at least a little bit. I need to know, Andy. I need to know what this is, once and for all, before you break my heart.”

“Joe. I can’t.” He wasn’t sure what, but he knows he can't. He has been running away from this for too long, doesn't know how to turn around or stop. Because no matter how Joe loves him, it wouldn’t be the same. He can’t risk what they have because of what they might be.  
He had accepted a long time ago that it wasn’t worth it.

“You **can** , Andy. Please, you can. You can have everything you want, I just have to know what that is. All I want is you, anyway I can have you.” Joe sounded desperate, and that’s what makes Andy look up at him. He’s got tears shining in his eyes, like Andy was being difficult. Andy doesn’t mean to be.

Right now, his head was just a series of bright, confused colors followed by a ‘can not compute’ message. 

“I don’t know what that means, Joe.”

“For the love of- This is it what it means: I want you. I want you in a hundred different ways and I don’t even know what to do with it all. So, please, Andy. Tell me where we stand, I will be happy with whatever you want. Just don’t give me hope that isn’t there.”

God, there it was. Andy choked on Joe’s words. His heart taking them in greedily, as his head tries to warn them off.

But this is Joe, and he has to. (to believe him, to tell him, to trust him)

“I want you in a million different ways, if you’d give me a chance.”

Andy shuts his eyes tight to the feeling of Joe’s hand on his cheeks.

“It’s yours. I’m yours. Always have been.”

 

~*22*

Andy wakes up to teeth biting lightly at his neck. He’s comfortable and cozy, wrapped up in a quilts and strong arms. The room is lit up in buttery gold light through the window, and Andy can’t find it in him to fight the heavy lethargy of sleep. He tilts his head a little, giving access to his neck. 

“Come on, lazy bones.” it’s a husky whisper in his ear, rough in a way that only the first words of the morning can be, and Andy just chuckles. He rolls over in the hold, opening his eyes to the mass of hair and bright blue eyes that makes up his boyfriend.

“G’morning to you too.” he pushes his smile against Joe’s lips, kissing him lazy and sweet. Joe huffs, but reciprocates easily. 

“There’s only one thing I like more than morning sex,” Joe breathes it out, like he’s trying to keep conversation but it distracted by how Andy’s hand is already down Joe’s boxer shorts.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“ **Birthday** morning sex.” 

Andy just laughs, rolling Joe over easily to kiss at his chest easier.

Twenty two is going to be a good year.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually really hate this, and has been one of my biggest hang ups.
> 
> The language was off, and I couldn't fix it and. UGH.  
> Maybe I've just been staring at it too long, nonetheless I hope you guys liked it.


End file.
